Instrument Of Violence
by Hollowshirosaki413
Summary: I am an Instrument of Violence. I am a thing; I kill, I ravage, and I do it with sheer anger and malevolence. However, even as I come to terms with myself breaking from my animalistic ways, I am still the same Instrument of Violence as I have always been. Can this man, who is my idol, the person who keeps me going even in the time of hopelessness, Ichigo Kurosaki, save me?
1. Basics: The Beginning

**I am now an instrument of violence  
I am a vessel of invincibility  
I cannot leave this undecided  
Stepping down to battle another day**

XXX

(GRIMMJOW POV) 

Once, many, many years ago, I may have portrayed a human. I may have breathed like a human, felt emotions like a human, and maybe even loved like a human. But now, now… all I am is a vessel for killing. I don't remember much of my past life at all, now all I remember are the days of solitude I endure without pain for my master, my general. It's not like I do this willingly, more like unwillingly being made into this…thing. Wait, scratch everything I just said. I do have emotion. I have anger. It was my friend.

Who damned me to this pitiful life of hell? None other than the bastard himself - Aizen.

Aizen was our leader, our owner, and most of all, the man who held all of our lives in the little fucking palm of his golden hands. He told us everything about our target, or our fighter, including weak spots and off of that shit, and then used us to kill off his enemies one by one. The only enemies he knows of and doesn't kill are us, because he knows we won't lift a finger to his little pussy ass. It annoys the living hell outta me. But I am to do nothing, because if I do, I will be the next one on his hit list.

But secretly, I cheer for the people who stand against him and live.

Yes, someone, and only one, lived while he stood against the brunette. His name is Ichigo Kurosaki. I fought him once, and yes, he beat the living daylights out of my ass. I was a bit happy that he did.

He became my new idol.

Whether he knew this or not, I didn't care. Of course I kept this shit secret too. If Aizen found out even a little bit of how I secretly cheer on the orange haired volcano, my head would be on the chopping block faster than I can say 'kiss my ass!' And I did wanna say that to him. Very bad. But if I did, of course, I would have another beating, and this time, it wouldn't be mediocre. I would be dead. Still though, I fight on, making myself better so I can fight Kurosaki again. I want to – he gets my blood going so _easy. _Everyone in this underground facility of Aashrith (ruler) knew that he was rebellious and striking, and no matter how many times Aizen tries to discipline him, his will never break and he keeps fighting on. And Aizen wouldn't kill him. Fuck no; he's too valuable for that shit. I and he are the REAL ones who make his money. Not any other weak-ass fighter.

Fuck, maybe I only like Kurosaki because of his will, maybe because of his strength, maybe because of his stubbornness and defiance, but all I knew was that he was _real. _He wasn't some joke or imitation that Aizen conjured up in his stupid-ass scientific mind. But I knew his emotions were _real. _

**Remember me for all time**

**This determination is a vital part of me**

**Surrender now or be counted**

**With the endless masses that I will defeat**

Someday, I was going to escape from Aizen's snotty little clutches. I would break free from the chains I was constantly consumed in, and if heavenly possible, take Kurosaki with me. But who the hell cares why I feel this way? I didn't know why even. But, my hopes were always crushed by my own reality, because I knew it would never, _ever, _come true. I mean, who the fuck can get away from Aizen? Not even Bruce Lee or Chuck Norris, and they were fucking legends. If anything, if it were even _possible _to escape Aizen, it would be Kurosaki that did it. Everyone knew this. And they accepted it.

XXX

Currently, I was facing a woman. She looked like a total Dyke, but who was I to judge? She was just fighting for her life, just as much as we all were. I'll give her the fact that she was strong – because she really was. Just not strong enough to me. Unlike her, I use my spare time going out on missions to the outside world to kill people, hurt them, or threaten them. I didn't know who had it better, either. Me or them.

She delivered a kick to my side.

I took it, pulled her foot, and slammed my head into hers.

She stumbled back.

I slammed her face into the wall of the pool-like structure we were fighting in.

People cheered.

I sneered.

Stupid, annoying, cunt-licking assholes.

I don't know how live people deal with this shit. I'd like to see _them _get into this damned ring and right for their life. See how long their shit will last.

As I fought, I thought of things. I always did. To get my mind of the fight; I needed to do that to win.

Which brought me back to the fact no one would end up living in this fucking cage of a life, no one on the outside world. No soldier, no warrior, not person remotely _human. _I told you, I was a vessel for killing. I was nothing. I was a toy. There was no give in my chest, it was as hard, or possibly harder, than a rock, and I was tall, and I could face stamina like no other. Besides Kurosaki. He was a totally different story indeed.

Kurosaki had stealth. He had quickness. He had strength. He could use any weapon given to us, and work it expertly, much like his hand to hand combat. He made me feel alive again. When I ever fought him, which wasn't usually, I _always _kept my mind on the fight. I watched his body slip and move, but then I lost track of it as he beat the living shit outta my life. The one reason we don't usually fight is because neither of us can die. Unlike this chick, who was losing her life quickly. She almost looked happy. Fuck if I care.

Another kick was delivered to my side. It hit, in the exact same spot, making me cough slight blood. I ignored it.

A punch to the bottom of the jaw. I just barely deflected it, and countered it with a sweep of my leg, making her fall to the ground in surprise. An agonizing howl was lt out from her as she landed on her broken\dislocated arm, twisting it into a way not able to describe.

I smirked. She would die soon.

**Come on bring it, don't sing it, better believe it**

**Broken down till your hope has died**

**Beat down 'til victory's mine**

**Stand up and show me some pride**

**And now are you ready?**

I then take a deep breath. I picture Kurosaki just then, fighting me to the death, and I can't help but pause a bit. Quickly covering that up, I sent a quick jab to her hip, sending the legs that held her up to crumble slowly and painfully down, now un-able to work. I give a round of applause to her for not crying out at the immense pain I was sure she was in. my own intense blue orbs send her a look of pity, and agony, as I glance at her. Ever so slowly she nods to me, signifying to finish her off. It sounds as if she got tired of all this shit too.

All of it.

My leg lifted.

It rose to meet her neckline.

I spun around.

Her body slams directly into the concrete blood, smearing it with a heavy coat of crimson blood. I then raise my arm, wiping of the heavy sweat I consumed through my nose and my lips, and sighed. The crowd, those ignorant people in the crowd, cheered me on as if I was a god. Hardly. I am destruction. I am something, unlike many others, except maybe Kurosaki. He was just like me. And maybe that's what attracted me to him, the way he was almost exactly like me. He was a monster.

But I was worse.

XXX

As I cleaned the blood myself from the room I was in, I heard the slight sound of someone slipping into the door. I didn't glance back at the person, even though not knowing who it was, but I spoke.

"What the fuck do you want?" I say gruffly as I continue to sew through my wounds, like it caused me no pain. It didn't, really, I got used to it a long time ago. Now all I feel is the slight indulgence of the pin sticking in and out of me, sealing my body and showing who I belonged to. Why I couldn't die. It made me sick.

"That was a very impressive show there, Grimmjow." I heard the silky, baritone voice speak, before I realized who it was. My body froze as I recognized it, and ever so slowly, I turned to meet shining, yet hollow and beaten, yet strong and willful, brown eyes.

"Not any better than the usual." I sneered, almost disgusted in myself for killing another person who was beaten and forced into fighting. I was glad, somehow, every time I killed someone. It meant I ended their misery. And yet, I'm still alive, fighting another day in the place of fighters and fighters before me.

"True." Kurosaki stated, as he closed the door behind him, making his way over to me in my room.

"Now I ask again, what the fuck didja want, Kurosaki?" my voice betrayed how excited I was. As usual, I wanted to know what he wanted to do with me, but at least I betrayed my thoughts into confidence. I didn't need Kurosaki going and thinking I was a weak shit. Not that he would think I was – with all the killings I have encountered. Fuck, I don't even think he views himself above me. Even though he is.

Kurosaki smirked in my direction as he took the initiative to sit down on my beaten, ripped, and torn tan couch. I could hear the springs retracting against his firm ass – the stupid things are probably uncomfortable for him. "I want to get away from Aizen." He spoke sullenly. I almost cackled. Get away from Aizen? What the fuck does he thinks he'll do to fool that dickhead?

I settled in for a small laugh. "The fuck? It ain't even possible!" I say, raising a brow at his stupidity. As much as I'd like to believe him, I knew it wasn't going to happen.

"Oh, but it is." Kurosaki spoke seriously. He motioned for me to sit down, but I only stood there dumbly as I pondered his words. It is possible? Fuck. It isn't. even as much as he'd like to believe it is, it just isn't. The fighter motioned again, this time more angry, glaring at my form as he told me with his eyes to sit.

I did.

"How?" I spoke before I could even think. He looked just so sincere – there must be a way. Or maybe, I'd just die trying. Well, at least it'd be for Kurosaki.

Kurosaki's eyes lit up at my answer. He looked like I kid no Christmas now, all cheery and shit. I don't even know why.

He may be strong, but damn, he's one helluva idiot.

Kurosaki scooted closer and moved his voice to a whisper. "There's this tunnel, out in the arena, which reaches around the whole entire town. Eventually it moves to the sewers. It was made from the old prisoners that escaped, and it's so complicated that only a few people know how to actually get through them. Call it a labyrinth, if you will. I need you to stage me in a fight, and we can both make our escape as soon as the guards pull off and the glass is risen for our fight." He explained to me. I nodded in understanding. I heard about those tunnels, but I always thought they were a common myth.

"How do you know this?" I ask Kurosaki while leaning back to stare accusingly into his eyes. A smile plays on his lips.

"Let's just say…my family isn't the cleanest of all of those little bastards out there." Kurosaki stated mysteriously. I narrowed by eyes, but didn't question it. It was his own personal shit, and I didn't need to get into it,

"Why are you taking me, out of everyone here?" I state curiously, my brow furrowed. "There are plenty of idiots in here easier to sneak out. Like that one guy, Kaien is it? Not half as bad as me." I roll my eyes, thinking the odds. I mean, who the fuck can miss orange and blue headed men running around? Shit, man, what an idiot.

"Because your special." He didn't elaborate on it, but I saw something in his eyes that I couldn't identify. My eyes, now slits, accused his own more, demanding answers. He only smiled. "I want you to get Aizen to let us fight." He told me in a calm voice, looking me directly into the eyes with his fiery orbs of steel. I let a smirk slowly, ever so slowly, crawl into my lips.

"On one condition." I state, a large smirk pulling onto my dried skinned lips.

He raised another delicate eyebrow, this time questioning and not amused. "And that is?" he stated, while he licked his own lips unconsciously.

I chuckled. "Then kiss me."

…

To say he was shocked was an understatement. He looked at me, his big, doe, innocent as can be eyes the size of plates, a thin blush adorning his tanned features as he took the silence to gather his thoughts. I couldn't blame him, what I was asking was seriously absurd, and to him, maybe even disgusting. Maybe he didn't even want to go on with the plan now, that….yeah, you get the fucking point. It was a stupid thing to ask. Gusty. And very, _very _stupid.

The orangette that I have been looking at for the past minute opened his lips once, then shut them, then opened him again. He didn't look like he knew what the fuck to say. For his credit, I wouldn't know either.

But then, he did something completely and utterly shocking.

He leaned in on the couch; his blush deepening as he coated his lips with saliva to keep them wet, and ever so slowly, kissed me. His lips, warm and soft, felt like heaven as they reached mine in a desperate, (and good I mind you) attempt to kiss me. You could tell he had never did something like this before, because it was sloppy and not at all in sync, but he didn't seem to notice it as he slowly began to move his lips against mine. After a few seconds, he got the hang of it, and began to kiss rapidly, as he body moved to straddle mine on the couch. I wondered if he knew I could feel the desperateness in him. I wasn't too keen on asking him, either.

His strong, toned arm draped around my shoulders as he continued to kiss me, softly, and not rushing. Maybe even shyly, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that it felt good, and so _right, _to be next to him like this, claiming his mouth at what was going to be mine in a VERY short time, and my hands on his hips rubbing circles to calm him down.

Before I knew it, Kurosaki pulled away, and looked me directly in the eyes with a satisfied, plump, lusty stare. Before I could say anything, he buried his face into my neck, hoping to get away from my looks as embarrassment took over him. I smiled gratefully. _He was just too cute._

"Ya don't gotta be shy, Kurosaki." I state, almost smugly, as I wrap my arms around his waist. He guffawed.

"Yes I do. And stop calling my Kurosaki. It's annoying." He mumbles into my shirt dejectedly.

"Tell me, that yer first?" I ask him. He doesn't answer right away, but then he slightly pulls back to look me in the eyes.

"The first willing one." He states, but doesn't elaborate. I already have an idea of who it may be that took away his first kiss. Probably Aizen, and that gave me the creeps. But then I thought, it was Kurosaki…*cough* woops, _Ichigo, _that I was kissing, not Aizen.

I grin at him. He ever so slowly smiles back at me from his view of my twinkling eyes. "I'm glad." I state, trailing my index finger along his tailbone.

"So am I." he told me shyly. It was almost a whisper. I grinned triumphantly. He hit me in the chest. Hard. I ignored that and continued to grin. He scowled darkly, and glared at me, trying to pull off. I didn't let him go. Why would I, when I just got him?

"You-"

"Arrogant, cocky, sexy bitch?" I call out playfully, tickling his sides. He starts to spasm, and laugh at the same time, causing us to end up tangling into an all out wrestling match on the old carpet floor I own. A few punches are thrown my way carelessly, which I easily deflect, soon pinning him to the ground while we pant ruthlessly as he smile(him) or grin(me) at each other.

"You bastard." He shakes his head at me, still smiling, his usually cold and stone face now lit up in true emotion. And I guess mine was, too, for once in my life.

Maybe, just maybe, Kurosaki could turn me into something other than an instrument of violence.

Maybe, even, perhaps, a human being.


	2. In the Name of Fuckin Blood

Hey, guys! Now, I appreciate your _attempt _to drop by a review in the last chapter (=.=) so here's the next one! I'll have to touch it up later, because this is a bit choppy and everything, so don't worry, it'll be better soon! And I know I'm goin' really fast with their relationship, so I'll keep this short and sweet. I'm gonna lay off a bit, but there's still gonna be the cheesy comments. And god, is Grimm OOC. Don't worry about that either, I'm gonna work on it! (This is my second re-do\touch up for this chapter, started on 3-8-13 D: So I'm really trying. xD)

Hope you enjoy!

Oh! And there is a poll up on my page and **IT WOULD BE AMAZING IF YOU COULD CHECK THAT POLL OUT. **

Please and thank you. X3

**Flashback:** Maybe, just maybe, Kurosaki could turn me into something other than an instrument of violence.

Maybe, even, perhaps, a human being.

**Instrument Of Violence Chapter 2: **In the Name Of Fucking Blood.

_Grimmjow Jeagerjaques POV _

"My, my, Grimmjow. What brings you here on your own impending will – for once?" The mere sound of this man's voice pissed me the fuck off. Sosuke Aizen's tone mixed with his poisoned vocal cords mixed with evil laugher and complete mockery – two things I couldn't tolerate _at all. _I mean damn, what kind of guy has a complex as fucked up as this and still manages to have people that adore and follow him? He was almost like that Hitler guy in Germany. And please, you'd have to be _blind_ not to see that those fuckers were pure evil. Like, really. One beats the shit out of people if they simply talk back, and the other fucked up so many Jews that no one really could know the count – well, except an estimate of course. But that was beside the point.

Sadly, a lot of people _were_ blind.

Though, even with my impending hate towards this man and this man alone, I found myself thinking of Ichigo and how I would be letting him down if I didn't do this for him. Even the thought of his face; disappointed and sad, disgruntled and slightly annoyed…I just didn't like it, really. So, for the sake of the orange-haired fighter and the freedom that he honestly deserved, I found myself standing uncomfortably in the middle of this stupid as hell man's office. Pissed off as fucking hell, I was, too.

God, did I hate Aizen.

"I wan' a fight. A _good _one." I forced myself to snarl and narrow my eyes in a predator-like fashion, completely aware that I came across as insane. Which it was for the better – I can't have Aizen knowing that I was getting a soft spot. That would cause suspicion. Then that would cause snooping. Then that would cause us being found out. Then started the beating.

Then we were screwed.

So instead, I wisely kept up my tough, egoistic exterior.

Aizen raised his eyebrows in a sort of simulated surprise. "But, Grimmjow –…"

I cut off the bastard before he could speak any further. "I want to fight Kurosaki Ichigo. I can beat that fucking idiot – I know I can. Just let me get to him." My voice sounded urgent. Making sure to keep my cool even with the pressure of royally screwing things up, I glanced right into the eyes of my assailant and snarled. I made sure not to fear the abuser. Brown eyes glinted with curiosity and amusement. That was a good sign. I think.

"My dear Grimmjow, you can try. Though, seeing your iron will against this subject, I suppose I will grant your wish. Does June fifteenth sound alright for you?" Sosuke answered with a ringing tone. I simply not and scowl deeply.

I tsked. "Ain't like I got anythin' better ta do." My accent slipped up a bit as I let that sarcasm roll off my tongue in pleasurable waves, smirking when the other man's eyes darkened with anger just a bit. It wasn't like I couldn't poke fun at the brown-haired douchebag, even if that would cause a hell of a lot more trouble for me later in time. Since there was a chance that I could finally get out of this shit hole I can be a little more lax than usual. For once, I felt quite happy. And it was all because of Kurosaki.

Damn, I was getting sentimental again. Ah, who the hell cared at this point? It wasn't like anyone was able to hear my thoughts – my mind was the only thing free for my control; I can use it however the living fuck I chose too. So if I wanted to be sentimental, there was no one there to stop me. Or if I wanted to be happy, or annoyed, or sad, or pissed, or even goofy. There was no one who could tell me that it was wrong. It was kind of funny how I just came to that conclusion, even after dealing with my mind for a little over two decades, but hell, it was fine if I realized it now.

Coming to terms with the fact that I just lost myself in my thoughts, I snapped back in to the world of reality and stared the bastard that granted me wish down.

"Your right, Grimmjow. There isn't anything else you can do." That snarky smile sent shivers down my tense spine. Instead of replying in what I thought would be an annoyed come back, I simply glared.

"May I leave now, Aizen?"

_Slap. _

God did I hate when that guy hit me. But it didn't surprise me anymore, thank god. Instead of focusing on the pain that expressed itself throughout the veins in my burning cheek, I decide to turn my head back and roll my eyes slightly. "Aizen-_sama._"

Aizen smiled and sat down in his overly expensive chair. "That's good, Grimmjow. Your still learning, but you're getting better. Now, you may leave."

Without turning to look back even once, I faced away from that stupid little bastard and walked out of the room.

_Mission 1: Get the fight, accomplished. _

**~oOo~**

My mind wandered in the middle of preparing for the upcoming fight. It was about five or six days after I had asked and was granted permission to fight Ichigo in the approaching tournament, and I have to say – I was buzzing with both confusion and excitement. Me and Ichigo were talking and talking right after I got out of that retched place, and he appeared so damn pleased that I got the fight going. It pulled at whatever was left of my heart. Not like I would admit that to anyone else, of course. But apart from that, I was both excited to finally try to escape – with Ichigo, no less – but I was also confused with what we were going to do when – or even _if, _we were to get out.

It wasn't like we had a plan as soon as we ran away. Again, that was a huge ass if. I shouldn't get my hopes up like that. But, for the two of us, one known as 'Insanity' and the other an 'Instrument of Violence', what sort of life were we to live outside of our cages? To think that we would be free – the simple _thought _of that brought apprehensive shivers to my skin. It's not like we would ever be _free. _Ichigo and I would always have to run, whether we liked it or not. That drowned my hopes within a few mere seconds, the idea of never being free, but even if we weren't it would be better than living in this shithole.

A sigh passed my lips. There wasn't any helping it.

However, there was something else that was making me think at this moment.

_The fifteenth of June. Ichigo Kurosaki's birthday. _

You see, Kurosaki never told me this directly. I ended up finding out the piece of information from a friend. Now, normally I wouldn't shit bricks trying to figure out what in the living hell I was to get him or do or say, but then again, Ichigo didn't make me act like my normal badass self. Cold, I usually felt, and most of the time lifeless, but I guess Kurosaki could release the animal without even knowing how to. I could recall awhile back when I was around…I dunno, fourteen or so, and Kurosaki was standing there, staring at me after our second or third fight…Well, I would have to say that's the first time I really got to _look _at him. And not only look; _study. _

Kid probably thought I was creepy after that, but then again, we never really had a stable relationship. He fixed me up plenty of times within a whole shitload of sometimes comfortable and sometimes uncomfortable silence, then we would fight again, and then Ichigo would patch me over and then himself. When we fought against each other, neither of us had the power to patch the other up. So instead of doing anything we usually let someone else do it – separately of course. But with the blood coursing through our veins and the raw hunger and lust during a non-warranted, no rule fight, we could never ask for more than that. Even if sometimes we wished for it to stop. Then again, as animal to animal, we would never wish for it any other way.

Then again, we, or, well, I, would go for some more talking every once in a while.

Not like I was getting soft on the bastard.

Ha. As if.

_There I go again, trying to deny my own goddamned feelings even though they were in my own fuckin' mind._

"Um….Grimmjow?" Ichigo's voice invaded my senses in the middle of wrapping my knuckles. I blink and look up from my deep-thinking habit, cocking my head to the side at the orangette's timid voice. _So unlike him. Or maybe it was like him, and I never noticed. _Y'know, thinking about that, I probably knew close to nothing about Ichigo, other than the fact that his tough exterior was his cover-up for being caring. It did no justice being caring in a place like this. I wouldn't understand how he _really_ was; well, not until we were out of this shithole anyway.

"Hm?" I grunt out as I pull at the tape. It ripped, so I set it down, palming the rest of the sticky stuff around my thumbs. At least Aizen provided us with medical care so we didn't die on our first night of our underground boxing – sort of – matches. As of now I was getting ready for my first match of the night, Ichigo only in here because his match was after mine. I guess tonight was a full-out specials night, and we were the main suspects to the nasty world behind those fences. Main attraction, main indulgence, whatever you want to call it – we were like humans in a cockfight.

_Ha. Disgusting._

I hated thinking of myself as a caged man, a man with no dignity, no _freedom. _Alas, that was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the fucking truth.

_Ew. _

Ichigo's voice pulled me out of my downgrading thoughts as I glance his way. "Just…don't get hurt intentionally too much out there, okay?" He says as he continues to look down, still in the process of taping his own hands up. A jolt of pleasure ran throughout me at the thought of Ichigo being worried at me, making me smirk a bit as I lean towards his face with an eager expression. Something warm weathered up inside of me, and at that moment, I couldn't help but feel a little bit better. Previous thoughts of mine always got me into a pissy mood, but leave it to Kurosaki to patch me up. Again.

A genuine smile passed my lips for a moment. Ichigo knew some of the weird quirks that got me happy – well, he may not _know, _but he does it unconsciously in any case. It was adorable to think so.

But instead of acting on that welling up happiness, I settled for nodding and scowling. Any man in his right mind would keep up that tough exterior that kept them safe, including me and Ichigo, so I made sure I used that little tactic at that moment. A snort filled the room.

"Keh, like I would." The trademark smirk that Ichigo always had the authority to see then arose on my face. Ichigo shook his head and grinned. Even if I wasn't good at reading faces, I could tell he thought I was an idiot right now. But, well, what does that make that fucker? A bigger idiot?

Of course.

Before I had the chance to tell my body no, I rounded the couch to stand in front of the beautiful brown haired man that seemed to be worried about me. A deft smile was my next reaction, which Ichigo gauged with a calm face, even though he was probably wondering what the fuck I was doing. Well, I wondered that too. So he wasn't the only one. The urge to suddenly wrap him in my arms and comfort him and tell him I was going to be alright – that I wouldn't leave him, no matter what the cost, surged through me. Though, I only intake the smell of lavender and a musky tone coming from the orangette, and pat him on the head affectionately. After a second, I blinked, and noticed that I had tried to comfort the man. A frown marred my lips.

_Kid was already changin' me. _

Somehow I thought I knew this already.

"What's today?" I ask suddenly with a furrowed brow.

"The twenty-third of April, why?" Ichigo looked generally confused as to what I was asking. Either that or changing the subject. It didn't matter which. I rolled my eyes at his blunt stupidity and step back a few steps to clearly see his face.

Shaking my head, I turn, just as I was being called out to the arena. "We only have a few more months in this shithole, and you will be free, Ichigo. I hope you enjoy it." I say truthfully as I walk out. I didn't mean to make the words sound so cheesy, but I'll be damned, the look on Ichigo's face completely and utterly made up for it. Out of the corner of my eye when I was turning I saw his face alight with a newfound shade of red, a happy grin beginning to appear no his face. And when I walked out, out into that arena, I realized something.

Two more months until I was free, too.

~oOo~

With the underground mess around me, the boisterous cheering, and the violence, I felt alive. It was like something new was spurring me on, something take-able, something _amazing, _something that kept me going until the person was beat to bloody pulp. I love the feeling of cold blood on my fists. I love the calluses I receive from years of hard work. I love the smell of sweat, the beating of hearts, and the workout. Even the arousing feeling of warm, beautiful crimson blood splashing on your face as you reach the peak of victory, and then they drop, drop down to the floor, leaving you completely dominant and prominently victorious…well….

It turned me on.

It made me feel needed.

And I _savored _it.

But, as I was fighting a weakling that was paired up with me, I had the time to think. It wasn't what I _wanted _in life. I wanted Ichigo to live with me, in a remote house, with a working job, and a steady pay. Sure, the violence that was bread from me will never go away, but sometimes, I just wanted to be…Mellow. Something like that, anyway. But when I think of my future, all I think about is Ichigo. The man who could still possibly turn me into a functional human, instead of this born-and-bread instrument of violence that I was. Maybe he could, maybe he couldn't. I wouldn't blame him either way.

Punch. Kick. Head-but. Jab. Punch. Uppercut. Three-point-combo.

It was a repetition of things this opponent did, which was the downfall of his style. Like me – I was unpredictable. I could be wimpy when I wanted to be praised to the fullest, I could be quick because I wanted to be hurt or scolded, or I could let things just play its course. I was wild, I was a nothing, and I was merely a number; a single number in which couldn't be taken down, a master of war, a master of hell. I could feel nothing when I fought. I couldn't feel the others pain, I couldn't feel their misery; I couldn't feel their anger and desperation. I couldn't even feel their skin, I couldn't feel their jabs, or their kicks, or their punches, or anything else along those lines.

But I could feel Ichigo's.

I don't know why, I don't know how. But it always happened. Maybe it was because I didn't know them, or didn't care, or whatever; or maybe I was just sentimental on him. The mere thought caused another frown to appear on my face as I deliver a harsh punch to the ribs. A satisfying crack of a bone breaking, or fracturing more like it, was heard. I smirked then.

_Weakling. _

To have weak bones as a fighter was something that people commonly cursed. Having 'weak bones' meant they were easy to break or crack; easy to bend at will and abuse to the fullest. Most fighters, like me, took that their fullest advantage and simply _broke _the person, much like I was doing now. See, now people like me and this guy, Nnoitra, our bones were so fucking iron-like I don't think anyone that wasn't under the right training could even bruise them. No one could probably hurt Nnoitra, except Ichigo and me, maybe. Ichigo had weak ass bones too, but don't let that fool you. No one but me could even get close enough to land a hit on the guy, he never let the fight roll on. Now that I think about it, his bones were probably the reason why he never toyed with his prey. That, and he was too human to do such.

Anyway.

I watch as the man that I was fighting crumble to his knees, both worn out and simply terrified. I cackled at the weakness surrounding me. It was as if this man was begging for his life. But then again, I would be doing the same thing in his position. Thank god I knew how to fight. Thank god I knew how to take care of myself and finally rise to the heights of new worlds to keep myself and Ichigo safe. Though, this man couldn't. He just simply couldn't.

Pity was clear as day as I watched another flicker of fear pass the eyes of my fighter. With the need to abruptly glace in the other direction I did just that and instead wrap my fingers around his neck in a form of pity. The man knew it too. I smiled slightly and gripped harder. Suddenly, I –…

_Snap. _

It truly was a pity.

I went back to the room that takes away my life from me. Ichigo was walking in at the exact same time. I looked at him. He looked at me. We looked spotless, minus a few spots of blood. He looked beautiful. He looked…sad. How do I feel this shit when I'm around him? It's not like I want to. But still, fucking hell, I do.

I think I kind of liked it.

"You win?" he asked me. His voice already said he knew the answer, but I answered for him anyway. In the back of my mind I wondered if a new arena opened up for him to fight – cause he was supposed to go _after _me. Huh, probably was the reason in any case. Well, in any case, I'm glad he had to fight at the same time as I. If he didn't, I just knew he would be watching me and that made me uncomfortable – not because I doubted my skills, but I didn't like knowing that Ichigo saw me as the monster I was when I fought.

"When do I not?" I smirk cockily. He grins also and walks over to me, stopping about a foot away.

"When you fight me, duh." He comments. I scoff, even though I know he's right. When Ichigo lifts his scarred hand to my own still-clothed one, I look at him, but he ignores my gaze and begins to un-wrap my bandages. He continued this circular motion until the cloth falls to the ground, not making a sound. That's when he looks at me again. "Will you miss fighting?" He asks in an almost strangled voice. "Will you feel normal mixing with the innocent?" He always had the strangest wording of things, I swear. After letting out a breath, I shrugged a bit, and knew where this was already going.

I sighed. I knew this would take a while.

Without further or due, I motion for him to sit down. He does.

I myself sit down next to him and take a deep breath. "I don't think tha' we'll fit in with humans for quite some time, Ichi, but I kno' that we'll get there, y'know?" I state cautiously. A few points, I was sure, to dance around. "And yeah, I guess I'll miss some of the fighting, like the life or death situations and the energy and the passion, but I think I had 'nough of that shit to go around. I think it's time we settle down, no?" With a grin, I poke the orangette in the face. "I need to provide a good home fer my wifey, now don't I?" I smirk.

But, if I really thought about it, _could _I provide a good life for Ichigo? Was he better off….

Never mind. I didn't even want to think like that.

Ichigo scowls and smacks my stomach. I couldn't help but think of it as cute, I mean, who wouldn't? "Shut up, I'm being serious." I sigh. "I mean, we'll be living our lives in secret – and we won't stop running. We are his best fighters. He won't just let us go." I could see his logic. But, I thought with a frown, I'd rather take my chances out there with Ichigo than live here with being beaten.

"We'll figure it out. Stop getting cold feet, neh?" I shake my head. "Ya know those boxing competitions? We could enter in those if we get bored. Not the nation ones, of course not, but, y'know, the underground ones? That would sate us. As long as we're…careful." Now that I think about it, I'm not sure if that's a good idea either. Aizen had men everywhere, from every country, every match, you name it. Maybe we'll just have to settle for street fights before we calm down. Yeah, that sounded more realistic. A lot more realistic.

Maybe even then he would catch on.

He wasn't stupid, after all. Actually, we would have to be more careful than I previously thought.

Ichigo sighed. "I guess so…" I felt something pang in my heart at that comment. With a genuine frown, I smack the back of his head, only to shake it when he yelps. I really didn't like that look on his fact. No, I hated it. Purely hated it.

"Stop thinking negative, Ichi. We'll get it right someday." Ichigo nodded solemnly.

"I really hope we will."

"We will. Don't worry."

"Okay."

After a few seconds of silence, I noticed something was dawning on me. The orangette looked like he was holding back his features, which were kind of frightened, so what if he was…Trying to, y'know, hide it? I narrow my eyes a second, thinking how alike we are. After contemplating, I attempt to comfort him. "It's alright to be scared, y'know." I comment lightly. As quickly as I said that, Ichigo frowned, his face dropped by quite a few measures. He looked embarrassed and guarded to think that someone could figure him out so easily.

Ah, we really were alike.

"I'm not scared!" He growls out, almost murderously. I cackle. Man, he was like me in so many ways. The maintaining pride, manliness, trying to keep his face impassive as he was really freaked out with the world around him…Yeah, he would become a true Jeagerjaques. _A true Jeagerjaques. _I liked the sound of that. It sent pleasant shivers up and down my spine. Too bad we couldn't get married – because it would be awesome for Ichigo to have my last name. But again, that topic was off track. This was a more serious matter at hand.

"Yes you are. If you're anything like me, yer trying ta hide it." I look straight into his eyes then, showing him mentally that he is not the only one scared, which makes him gulp and nod.

"Your…scared, too?" He asks hesitantly. He looked a bit ashamed asking me, so I did my best to comfort him.

Idiot.

"A 'course I am, Ichi." I say soothingly. Taking my hand, I ruffle his hair and stand up. He stands also. "It's not something simple we're abou' ta do, okay?" I take him into my arms and hug him; I saw this happen once in the crowd. I'm pretty sure hugging is meant to be soothing, so I might as well try it on Ichi anyway. He responded, and wrapped his arms around me, nodding into my shoulder. "We got this. Before you know it, we'll be in a whole new boxing ring, getting money, renting a….Apartment, and on our merry way." The whole ordeal was immensely cheesy, but I wasn't about to say anything else, due to the fact that Ichigo looked satisfied.

Said strawberry shook his head in dismay. "If you say so." He comments lightly as he picks up the bloody bandages from the floor, going to throw them away. I watched him silently as he walked so perfectly, so elegantly, his body swaying with every step he took. I inwardly groaned. Ichigo was – most positively – one of the biggest hot messes I've ever laid my eyes on; chick, dude, whatever.

That brought me around to his fiery personality. That was probably one of the first things that attracted me to the man – the raw _anger _he brought himself up in. I remember, a long while back, when me and Ichigo first met. We were only kids – hell, we still are – but younger. It was our first fight, and I vaguely remember that being his first encounter in 'the ring', that I thought I should go easy on him. Boy, was I wrong. He wiped the floor with my ass in seconds, and by then, I realized I would have to show my true potential with the next bell. When I did, Ichigo, he wasn't in the least shocked. But he uped his game then, and man, was that a fight to be seen.

I loved it.

We were both fueled with the thoughts of rage from being taken captive at the time, having to fight for stupid ass business men who were roused to watch something like this. Our punches and kicks, unlike many others at the time, were trained and precise, and, even with my immense training and long hours of agility and weight lifting, the kid still beat me with flying colours.

Now that took some fuckin' skill.

With a petulant sigh, I also remember being the timid, sweet-talking lover-boy that I hated back then. The way he fawned over me, like I was a weakling, patching me up when I wasn't too hurt, stuff like that. We weren't exactly friends back then, we never were really 'friends', barely talking to each other and all, but as time went by and we grew older, he never stopped fixing me up. Most of the time we stayed quiet. Neither Ichigo nor I knew what to say, so, we opted for a comfortable silence.

It was relaxing. It made me feel safe. Even though I knew I was never to be 'safe'.

"What're you thinking about?" The voice I had grown accustomed to spoke out, causing me to glance over at him. He was fixing his own minor wounds, trying to cover up his pain while pouring alcohol on it, but failing. I sighed and decided to ignore it. There wasn't anything I could do.

Ichigo glanced at me, expecting an answer. "Y'know, I really hated you when we were little." I dragged on, shaking my head.

The orange-haired fighter gaped at me for a second, not knowing what to say. "Um…"

"Ya were always the little kid who stole my spotlight, but ya were such a naïve little shit that ya kept coming back to my side whether you knew it or not." Keh, he really was a weakling when it came to emotions. "I thought you were a chick for a while; with those emotion's a yers." I smirk at the comment, knowing Ichigo would be morally pissed off. I loved it when the kid was pissed off. Call me a freak, but it even turned me on a bit. What was that saying….don't knock it 'til ya try it? Yeah, don't judge me 'til you see that kid all riled up. Really. You'd be surprised.

I dodged a roll of tape that was thrown at me. "I was not a woman! Shithead!" Ichigo shouted as he growled at me. I smirked.

"I know. Didn't stop me from thinkin' it." I shook my head and plopped on the old, dirty couch. "I remember the burning jealousy that I always had from you, and I remember hating you so much I wish you died. But when you fixed me up usually, the silence, it made me feel a bit…Normal. So thanks, is what I'm getting at." I gruffly stated as a sign of indulgence, knowing, silently, that the orangette was probably proud of getting a 'thanks' out of me. Which he should be. I never said thanks to just anyone. They had to be special. Like Ichi.

Silence.

"I've loved you since our first fight." Ichigo confessed.

I gaped at him.

_What?_

Insert circuit in mind being cut off.

He gave me a look that said 'shut the fuck up or I'll hang your castrated balls for everyone to see in the morning'. I wisely shut up. Didn't stop me from thinking again, though.

"You were always the brash kid that could take anything that Aizen threw at him, while I begged him to stop most of the time. You had a smart as fuck mouth though, which, I remember got you into more trouble, but I guess that's what made you attractive to me. You were something I wasn't, a king of the ring, all that good shit." The orangette continued when I didn't speak. I couldn't. So he did for me, thankfully.

"I fixed you because you always looked broken." Ichigo shrugged. I gave him a strange look. "I didn't like seeing you broken." The hidden meaning within that statement almost made me quiver, but I cleverly held it in. That whole ordeal made me feel a tiny bit better, and, when I thought about it, I remember how I used to question those glances that Ichigo used to give me; the way his eyes would light up and then dim with disappointment when I wouldn't speak a word, before they brightened up once more as he hummed to himself while fixing up a shoulder or a wrist or a leg or something.

I also remember never being able to distinguish what that meant.

Maybe I was stupid. Or ignorant. But still.

Since we met? Damn.

"Sorry I can't say the same." I shrugged. "I liked seeing you in pain half of the time, but not from others. I liked it when I was the cause because that meant tha' I was the upper hand and shit like that, like I was the king or better." I could've been just a sadist and not known it yet. I remember, also, when I found out I was a sadist. It was a strange story, too. Maybe I'll tell you….some other time.

Ha.

Fat chance of that.

Anyway.

We shared a meaningful glance, but didn't speak.

Our silence spoke for us.

_We will never break, we will soon be free, and then we will finally live our lives. _

We will be human.


	3. The Day Before

So, this is my second re-do for this chapter. As some of you have already seen, I'm just re-constructing just about of the previous chapters to my stories, so before you go and read the next chapter to some of them, please, go and make sure some of the events didn't change. But I'm grateful for whatever I get in response; good reviews, bad reviews, constructive criticism and all that good shaz. Destructive criticism will most definitely be ignored. X3

This chapter will basically be the day before the fight, just a warm-up. I know there's a few questions on the ages and stuff, and both of their pasts, so I'll get on that soon enough. I'm trying to stretch this story out more – as a lot of good writers do, but repairing that means re-doing the whole story. (I'll probably end up doing so.)

Also, how are your views of me beginning to post my stories on YouTube? Do you think I should get better before I go and embarrass myself in front of the whole community or what? xD

**PLEASE LOOK AT MY NEW POLL ON MY PAGE – VERY MUCH APPRECIATED. **

**Instrument of Violence Chapter 3: **The Day Before

_ POV: Grimmjow Jeagerjaques_

As those two fateful months stretched by, I found the due day growing nearer and nearer on me until I felt as if I could just fucking blow up into a million tiny pieces. The agony and the pure wait for the moment, the moment that I could finally be _free, _well….When it came, I could feel nothing more. I was excited, but also so fuckin' scared that my large hands would every now and then begin shaking with a hint of fear and anxiety. Not for me; I really didn't care what happened to _me, _but if Ichi…If that kid got hurt, would I be able to _live_ with myself? I wouldn't think so. So, I would have to do everything in my goddamned power to keep that orange haired dandelion safe. Whatever the cost.

So, this is the matter at hand right now.

_It was the day before. _

Before we left. Before we were free. And it felt so good, yet so bad, yet so damned terrifying that I was just about to go off and kill something out of sheer postponement. Of course I didn't. But that wasn't the point.

That, and it was the kid's himself birthday tomorrow.

Ichigo didn't say shit, either.

I was kind of annoyed that Ichi wouldn't tell me that it was his birthday, even though I knew it was. It made me feel, I dunno, untrusted? I dunno. But I didn't really enjoy the feeling. Then again, that was either why my stomach was tied in knots, or the fact that _I have no goddamned present. _Hell, I don't even know how old the kid was. I knew he was younger than my twenty-six year old body, but then again, just how much younger? I knew he wasn't a teen either; we were here longer than that. So that left him between the ages of nineteen through twenty-five. Still, that's seven fucking years to choose from

God, what kinda friend was I?

**~oOo~**

"Grimmjow-kun, what in the world gave you the incentive to come here?" God, I could commit suicide over that voice. It sounded just so sluttish and annoying I thought that I would choke on my own spit and turn the other direction. But I didn't – not for my own sake, again, but for the sake of that stupid little orange-haired man's birthday. When I finally came up with the idea of what to get him, the first thing I thought was no fucking way because of two things: one, I had no idea how I would get it and two, once I found out how to get it I realized that I would have to cross those pink-haired douche of a scientist to get it.

"Shut the fuck up, Pinky. I have a favor tha' ya deserve to pay pack."

"I'm listening…."

**~oOo~**

Around mid-day was the next time I saw Ichigo. He was tense, but he was humming to himself as he gripped the glass of water that he owned – er, well, he held in his possession. It looked as if the orangette just got done with his latest fight – which, he probably did, because of the renewed sweat that was gathered on his face and the slight incline of his chest – and the obvious things, like the bandages that wrapped his knuckles to prevent breakage and scratching. That and his clothing was drenched with sweat.

I sighed.

Kid never got a day off. Like us, even though I was the next best fighter here, we always got about a two day break during the fights so we didn't tire. Now don't screw up this shit here, either. It wasn't because that cunt Aizen was 'worried' about us; I didn't even think the guy knew what that word meant. He just didn't want his publicity to go down if one of us got hurt beyond measure, or didn't perform our best.

I'm rambling again.

Anyway, I saw the fact that the orangette didn't see me yet, and smirked, thinking I could use this to my advantage.

Oh, how I was so fuckin' wrong.

Just as _soon _as I got near enough to surprise the orange-haired fighter, I was caught with an exploding roundhouse kick to the side of my body facing him. Normally I would've deflected it, but caught with an un-coincidental surprise, I had to let out a grunt of pain when the foot hit my ribs. My eyes closed only for a fraction for a second, before they opened to a loud gasp of both surprise and agony. I did my best not to double over in misery either and settled for gripping it with my right hand to try and drown the pain.

A squeak was heard a second or two later. "Holy shit Grimm, I'm so sorry!" Ichigo immediately tried to apologize as his feet hit the floor. As I glance at the vibrant man, I notice that his eyes were shocked and he was breathing heavily. With a raised eyebrow, I let out a sigh. Kurosaki caught the look on my face. He smiled sheepishly. "Don't sneak up on me, I hate it when people do that. Always react violently." He murmured.

"No _shit. _I thought ya shit rainbows and created a beautiful picture of masturbating turkeys with it." I groaned as the pain in my side intensified. Damn. I would seriously have a bruise there tomorrow. And it wouldn't be no pansy ass bruise either. Damn.

Kid always knew what turned me on.

A scowl was now present on Ichigo's features. He sighed, ruffling his hair, before he motioned me to sit down. With a smirk, I did so, making sure to spread my legs apart extra wide to get a reaction out of the other. It did. And it was, again, the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen. Really, if you ever say Ichigo Kurosaki blush, it was like he turned into an adorable plushie that you just wanted to hug until you died.

Insert bout of manliness right there. I never said that.

"Lemme see the damage." Ichigo grumbled as he kneeled between my legs. If I didn't know better, it looked like the kid was about to give me a blow job on the couch, but I narrowly avoided that thought so I didn't pop out of my pants. Fuck. It wasn't like I was hard already. No, never. Ever. I snort instead and raise my shirt, glancing towards the left side of my stomach to find a large, brutal bruise making its way to the surface. I flinched as the orangette brushed his fingers along the cause of pain.

Now that I thought about it, I was always too quick to catch the wrath of Ichigo's kick, but being caught off guard was probably the perfect opportunity, and, I have to say, I hope I'm never on that side of the foot again. He had a horrible kick. Not horrible as in bad, oh, no, horrible as in _it hurt so fucking much that I thought every one of my ribs was going to crack and explode from my body. _Yeah. You get the idea. It hurt.

Still didn't take my mind off the cute blushing berry in between my legs.

But I tried not to think of that.

It was hard, though.

No pun intended.

"Damn." Ichigo breathed through his mouth. "I think this is the best piece of work I've ever done…" he commented to himself. I snarled in warning. A short laugh was heard from my vocal point of lust, and, after a few seconds, the orangette leaned in to kiss the wound on my rib. I had to fight a groan and a waft of surprise. "I hope it's better soon." He grinned lightly. I snorted. Any wound dealt by Ichigo was never healed quickly. Or right. Or not painfully. I still have that scar all the way down my chest from that kid.

"_AHH! FUCK!" _

_There was a moment of silence as the crowd stopped dead. Pantera, the man that was un-defeated, the man that was a killer, a certified bitch of the ring, just…what? _

_Grimmjow laid face first on the floor of the ring as he fought to get up, for the first time in his life trying to pull off a wave of dizziness. His chest, completely and utterly smeared with the warm, cobalt red colour known as his blood, was heaving and hoeing as he tried to stand. But it was fruitless; his legs were too weak in this state. They were just about as wobbly as a bowl of jello. _

_The last thing he noticed before he blacked out was the concerned glance of the orange-haired teen that managed to beat Grimmjow Fuckin' Jeagerjaques, AKA Pantera._

That was the first time Ichigo had patched him up.

A smile twitched on his face as he replayed the memory over and over in his head, only to be pulled out after a few seconds by the grown man himself. "Is there something on my face…?" Ichigo asked as he unconsciously reached for the skin that lay over his angled features. I smirk.

"Sexiness, that's what." Ichigo blushed.

"Shut up." He gave a short reply as he instead rested his head on my thigh, his eyes closed and his breath fairly normal. I brought my hand up and rested it in his vibrant orange locks, and began to stroke. "Really, what was it?" Kurosaki asked as an afterthought. I hummed.

"I was thinkin' of that scar on my chest." Grimmjow shrugged. Ichigo looked up in apology, but I shook my head and smirked, as if to warn him off from apologizing. The guy didn't have to. That was probably the sole moment he changed me, anyway. Made me actually want to _strive_ for something. And, quite possibly, he's was kept me alive for all of these years. Not that I would ever tell him that. "Don't gimme that look. I like it. Makes me look like a tough shit."

Ichigo, who previously hit my leg, rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Shut up. That was a serious wound."

An epic serious wound, it was.

"So, Ichi…" I let a seductive purr leak out from my lips as I teased the man that was still kneeling between my legs. Ichigo looked up; a firm blush in place and his eyes glazed with confusion. "Ya gonna stay down there long enough to get me hard er are ya gonna come back up 'ere?" The orangette blinked for a second and I had to stifle a large smirk as the man between my legs looked down at my half-hard dick. But, instead of moving, like I both thought and hoped he would, he stayed there and continued to stare. This made me raise an eyebrow.

"Ya gonna get up er –…"

"Shut up." Ichigo cut me off with a harsh-sounding voice and I wisely kept my trap shut.

And then my eyes almost bulged out of my head when I felt a hand on my zipper.

"Uh, Ichi –…"

"I said, shut up." This one came out a bit squeakier as he blushed and gave a half-assed glare towards my face. "I-I wanna…"

"Ya don't have ta, Ichi. I can wait however long it needs." I hinted towards the kid. Even though I truthfully wanted to fuck the brains out of my almost-lover, I pushed those contemplations to the back of my head, knowing I didn't want to push the man any farther than what he wanted.

"I want to. I wanna touch it…" Ichigo murmured softly as he pulled the zipper of my pants down antagonizingly slowly. "Jus'…" his voice roughed up. I shivered. "So I don't lose you when we break out…" He whispered. My legs spread further out as I welcomed the body that was descending on mine.

Wait, wait, wait.

Hold up.

What?

"Ya think ya need to give me pleasure ta keep me with ya?" I blinked. When Ichigo didn't respond, I forced his face up to look at mine with a hand around his chin, but he continued to avoid eye-contact. "The fuck have ya been smokin'?" I state brashly. Really, what was this kid thinking? Was he not there whenever I opened up to the kid? What the fuck? No. No. No, no, no.

No.

"N-Nothing, I just…" Ichigo squeaked as he tried to pull out of my grip. I didn't have it, though, and I forced him to sit in my lap as I kept my grip on him. He continued to avoid eyes.

"What? Ya think I'm keepin' ya fer a good fuck?" I tsked as Ichigo didn't respond, but he looked me in the eyes now. His orbs were shining with confusion and a bit of hurt, and with that, I felt the last straw pulling desperately at my control. I twitched.

Instead of keeping my grip on his chin, my hands move to the back of the orangette's head as I cradled his face, and brought him in for a teeth-clanking, ear-splitting, lip crushing kiss. Ichigo moaned as soon as our lips touched, and I, too, had to fight a moan that was trying to pour out of my lips. The kid's puckered skin was soft as silk and felt so fucking amazing that my mind was blown at that moment. Ichigo tasted vaguely of vanilla and coconut as I force my tongue past his moving lips, trying to map out everything I knew from the kid.

Ichigo wrapped his arms around my neck as he got in a more comfortable position above me. I hissed when his knee rubbed up against my now prominent erection, but I ignored that as I gripped as his hips, pulling away just enough to nibble as his bottom lip. Ichigo's eyes, I noticed, opened up as he bore his orbs into mine, and, with a firm blush in place, he moved to get some air. His face was then nuzzled into my neck.

"Maybe not so much anymore…" I had to strain my ears to hear Ichigo's comment.

"Not so much? Kid, if I was using ya fer sex, I'd already have ya taken." I stated in a matter of fact tone. A playful smack was delivered to my chest. I smirked.

"Shut _up." _

"Ya sure like sayin' that a lot."

"You make me say it."

"Oh, do I now?"

"Yes."

"I can also make ya –…"

"I said, _shut up." _

I laughed.

A grumbling was heard from the orangette as he began to nibble unconsciously at my neck. I tilt my head to the side to give him a bit more room, and I had to hold back a jolt of surprise as his hand runs down my clothed chest and rests just above my crotch. I groan a bit as I fight bucking my lips.

"I still wanna, though…"

"Kid, ya can do whatever the fuck ya want as long as I know why ya wanna." I manage to groan out with a grin. At the comment, I received a bite to the ear. This made me chuckle breathlessly.

"Don't make me say _shut up_ again." Kurosaki hissed towards me, causing my ear to vibrate slightly. I shivered in response.

"Wouldn't dream of it, kid." I hummed in approval when Ichigo's hand un-did my zipper the rest of the way. He then rested his slightly shaking hand on my boxer-covered erection. I licked my lips. For as strong-willed and stubborn this man was, he was definitely possibly the shyest person I have ever laid eyes on during sex. Though – that kind of added to his cuteness too. Ah, who the hell am I kiddin'? It made Kurosaki fucking irresistible.

When Ichigo's fingers passed the band of the un-wanted article of clothing, I groaned. The kid was going _way _too slow for my liking. But I didn't say anything – didn't wanna rush the man more than needed. He probably wou – _holy fuck of all things fucking bright and rainbowy that felt so fuckin' good. _I groaned as Ichigo pulled my boxers down a bit, just enough to grip the base of my dick. I hissed as Ichigo as he pulled his weight off of me and decided to kneel between my legs once more. His hands, before I could protest, were taken away from my expanse of skin only to wrap around my wrists to pull me up. I got the hint and stood, hastily whisking away my garments as I settle back down, completely nude to the sexy as hell orangette.

Kurosaki sported a large blush as he glanced up at me, questioning, before taking a deep breath. I couldn't glance away even if I wanted to, because when Ichigo started flicking the tip of his tongue over my erection, I could do nothing. I was immobilized. He was so hot. He was so beautiful. He was so damned sexy, so damned pretty, so damned hot, so damned everything at the moment I couldn't help but moan out my approval. Fingers twitched. Knowing what they wanted, I pulled my hand up and rested it just above Ichigo's neck, fisting whatever hair I could during that time. The orange-haired warrior got the hint and took the tip of my arousal into his warm cavern, and, after a few seconds, began to bob his head. My pale blue eyes furrowed in concentration.

_Do not thrust into his mouth, do not thrust into his mouth, do not thrust into his mouth…_

"Fuck, Ichi…" I hissed his name. Kurosaki stared up at me, and briefly, our eyes lock, before his blush heightens and he moves his gaze elsewhere. I growled at the cuteness.

Then Kurosaki had to fucking ruin the cute moment.

He fucking _moaned. _

Now lemme clear this up. When you have your object of lust sitting between your legs with your dick in his or her mouth, you're doing your best not to cum just by their sweet-as-living-hell cavern alone. But when that object of perfection _moans, _oh god, that's a whole fucking new level in itself. Sure, I've had a couple of bitches jack up my dick like that too, but when you have someone that you like a lot, possibly love, do that to you?

There's no one who can measure up to it.

But with a frown, I find myself wondering why the kid moaned. As my eyes drifted down past the orangette's face, I notice Kurosaki's arm muscles moving, and when I glance down lower, I realize my lover was _stroking himself. _

Need I go over the whole lemme clear this up again?

I don't think so.

I think you get it.

A furious snarl slips past my lips as I pull at the hair, causing Ichigo to fumble with his rhythm a bit, before getting back on track. The warmth of his mouth, how he occasionally dragged his teeth down my main vein, how he moaned softly whenever he was pleasured, and when –…

Did he just….

I couldn't help another moan that passed my lips. Really, I couldn't help it. At all.

The kid knew how to _deep throat? _

What?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" I chant as Kurosaki does it again, and my hips, this time, _did _thrust forwards in his mouth, causing the orangette to hack a little. He covered himself up quickly though and began to suck faster, harder, with more force as moans around my cock just started spilling out, causing me to see those tempting white stars of lust that so many people claim on seeing. With a sudden warning and a hiss of affection, I forced the kid to deep throat me once more, before spilling my cum down my lovers throat, a mid-silent scream trying to get past my lips. I couldn't see anything for, oh, a couple of seconds, before I was brought back to life to the sound of Ichigo's strangled scream passing his lips. I couldn't force my eyes open, though, but with the way Ichigo slumped against my shaking legs, I realized that he must have finished himself.

"Grimm…" Ichigo murmurs softly as he nuzzles into my leg. I open my eyes and realize that nothing else white was anywhere around me, which made me think…The kid swallowed, didn't he?

I groaned again.

"For the love of all things holy, how the shit didja do tha'?"

A chuckle past the orangette's lips as he stood, only to sit on my lap and snuggle into my side. My arms immediately wrapped around him. "I dunno. I did a good job for my first time?" His tone was light and soft, yet baritone as he sighed softly.

My eyes widened. _His first time? What? That…no, that isn't even possible. He was…_

"F-First time?" Now, I wasn't one to stumble on my words unless I was cracking my shit up, but right now I had an excuse. His comment just blew my mind. Quite literally.

"Mmn…" He hummed quietly.

We settled for comfortable silence after the initial shock. I listened in quietly to the sound of Ichigo's heart beating, the repetitive sound of thumping causing my body to relax even more than before. My lover was breathing incredibly soft, and, after a few impending seconds, I come to terms with the fact that Kurosaki had fallen asleep. I let my lips curve into a smile as I glance downward. The kid was really too cute for words. The way his eyebrow would twitch every now and then, or how his lips had fallen from that previous scowl that he always protected himself with, the way he would curl into a ball on my chest like a little kitten…Ichigo was really adorable.

My own eyelids began to get heavy. A sigh escaped my lips.

As I tilt my body slightly to the side to get more comfortable within the limited space both Ichigo and I were in, I find that my lips were drifting over to the orangette's soft, rosy cheek. There, I let out a silent 'I love you', before falling blissfully into the exact same unconscious resting as my lover.

And, at that moment, I almost forgot that we were about to face the hands of either life or death.


	4. It's Time

**A\N:**Well, I'm gonna get down to it, like I do in the rest of my story. First off, I would love to give a _huge _call-out to MMagnet for her awesome and dedicated reviews to my stories, and I really appreciate her inspiring comments and uplifting advice. Arigato! And second, well….I have no second. X3 I just wanted to give big thanks to her!

Also, I have a new poll, and it would be no short of amazing if a bunch of ya decided to help out and gimme some advice. X3 of course you don't have to, but it's just an idea!

**Flashback**_: As I tilt my body slightly to the side to get more comfortable within the limited space both Ichigo and I were in, I find that my lips were drifting over to the orangette's soft, rosy cheek. There, I let out a silent 'I love you', before falling blissfully into the exact same unconscious resting as my lover._

_And, at that moment, I almost forgot that we were about to face the hands of either life or death. _

**Instrument of Violence Chapter 4: **Birthday Wishes

_Ichigo POV: _

For the longest time, the only thing I could do was lay there and stare at the peeling white paint on the ceiling that I was housed under. The bed sheets that Aizen owned wrapped around my waist from the constant tossing and turning, and, as my heart lurched further into my throat, I felt myself become a tiny bit scared. This feeling wasn't something I was used to, you see. Fear was something I threw away long ago, but as soon as I felt that familiar pulsating in my chest, I knew that it was back. I cursed myself, but then again, I had a solid reason to.

I mean, it wasn't every day you're facing death in the palm of your hands for risking freedom, isn't it?

No.

To top it off, becoming a year older felt as if the weight of the world was placed on my shoulders and then topped off with just enough whipped cream to make my body topple over. I was officially the big twenty-four. It sounded nasty. Disgusting. Stupid. I was a year older, and that means I had another year's worth of Aizen behind my back. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to go through another one. Ever again.

With a deep sigh I let my body drag out of the pure white bed that I slept in. The sun was just rising past the flat horizon of the nothingness surrounding this place, and this made me a bit more depressed. If Grimmjow and I manage to escape, I wonder, where the hell would we go? To think I haven't planned this through. I had more than enough time to grapple up at least an _idea _with what we were going to do, but being caught up with my lover these past two months I hadn't gotten the chance to think.

A growl passed my cherry lips. I was such an idiot.

But where would we go? Walk twenty miles to the nearest town and eat out of garbage cans to feed ourselves? The reality of this situation wasn't exactly the best.

As I drag myself into the bathroom to do my morning duty, I couldn't help but think that both mine and Grimmjow's case was unfortunate. Even if I had my family to back me up on this situation, I had no contact with them past the occasional call from the community phone. Hell, I didn't know what they _looked _like, let alone where they lived or their names or anything else. All I knew was that they were powerful and that they had just located me.

A surge of panic invaded my thoughts. What if they didn't like how I carried myself? What if they didn't particularly care for me, or what if they thought I was an abomination due to the fact that I was gay? What if they disliked Grimmjow?

I would have to disown them.

It was clear and simple. They _were _my family. They _did _raise me the few years that they actually had control of me, but when Aizen came and fucked everything up – it gave me no time to bond with my family. But _Grimmjow_, well, I've known him for _years. _I've grown up with him and cussed at him and ratted him out and fought with him and played him and even became _lovers _with him. And even though they were my family, my life belonged with Grimmjow whether they liked it or not.

The bathroom door closed shut on that comment and I was soon met face to face with the object of my worries. My face was reflected in the mirror, the attributes on my features poking out to appear annoyed or disgruntled. I wasn't exactly sure what to do, so instead I turned on the cold water and splashed the substance on my face. This made a shiver escape my body.

With a deep breath and a wipe of the towel, I told myself not to worry. I would make this my best birthday yet – the birthday I would finally be free.

I would truly be Ichigo Kurosaki. Espada Number Zero was no more.

"Oi, Ichi, ya in here?" A loud, boisterous voice invaded my thoughts as a banging sound rang off the white wooden painted door. Knowing the voice by heart, I smiled a bit and called back. _Only Grimmjow was stupid enough to ask that. _

"Don't be so loud! Of course I am!" I say back as I roll my shoulders once. It would be bad to make Grimmjow worry because I was stressing. He was probably stressing enough as it was. Well, if he was, that man sure knew how to hide it well in any case.

"Ya takin' a dump er somethin'?" I take that back. He deserves to stress. Fucker.

A snort passed my lips. "No, and back away from the door before I flatten you." That was my warning, and if he was behind that door when I opened it, it was his fault for being flattened. Secretly, I wished he didn't move.

But Grimmjow was too smart for that.

And as I whip the door open, I was met with a smirking blue-haired devil of a man on the other side. He was a good five feet away from the door, which made me want to shake my head and grin at my obvious humor. But I didn't. I was more mature than that.

Maybe.

"What'cha screaming about so early in the morning?" I find myself biting back a yawn as my woken face twitched.

I noticed Grimmjow flick something behind his large body as one hand disappears. I raise an eyebrow. What was that he had? The colour was…What was it? Blue? Hm. Grimmjow, his smirk never leaving his place, decided to usher me back to bed in one swift motion. Grimmjow's long, elegantly lean fingers seized my wrist in his iron grip and he pulled me towards the less-than-plush mattress that I was forced to sleep on. I scowl a bit as I was not-so-gently pushed onto the bed. But then again, when was Grimmjow gentle? My body bounced a few times. No, he was never gentle. Though, who would ever want him to be?

"Hm…." Grimmjow hummed as he crawled into the bed with me, his left arm still curled behind his back. "Some little birdie told me…" I felt his free arm wrap around the part of my body lying on my bed, and then his other, the left, wrapped around the part facing the ceiling. His brash form snuggled in to me as he rested his head against my shoulder, a little bit of his lip brushing against the junction of my ear. I fought a shiver. Where did that thing go? "That…" A breath passed his lips. I groaned. What in the living world was this man doing? And so early.

Though, I found myself eager what he was to say.

"You…" Come on, _come on. _What was it already? He was beginning to scare me.

"…Have gotten a year older today."

Blink.

Son of a – who in the hell told _him?_

Before I could even will myself to try and fight his body off of mine, to at least get some distance between us, Grimmjow forced his grip around my horizontal body to become tighter, causing whatever fight I had in my body to drift. He knew me all too well. That was kind of scary. Stupid blueberry.

I blushed and made sure my face was buried in the only part of the sheets I could access. Why did he have to go and bring that up? But what I wanted to know most was…Who in the living hell told him? For fucks flying sake of flying rabbits and rainbow unicorn shit, _I was going to kill whoever told that stupid love of mine. _

You see, I hate birthdays. I thought they were useless. It was annoying. I've used that word countless times already, only for the fact that I couldn't think of any other word to say. I was simply incapable of thinking anything else. Birthdays were some fake idea where people thought that you should celebrate the fact that you were born, that you should rejoice and think the world utterly and physically too amazing to comprehend something so simple as to the fact that someone popped you out and you caused them a shitload of pain. But then again – that was only my opinion.

At that moment, I forgot about that blue thing that was behind Grimmjow, and focused on hiding a bit more. Which was stupid, again, _stupid, _because Grimmjow was laughing and I was blushing and I couldn't get away and I couldn't… I couldn't…Ugh. Whatever. Point was I couldn't move. And it was embarrassing.

"Lemme go." I mumble into the sheets.

"Not a chance, Berry." I could feel the irony of his smirk without even having to look at him. Idiot.

"Fucker."

"Always. Now lift that head a yers before I have to go and do it myself. I got a little somethin' fer ya."

_Oh he did not find something to give me. _

But I lifted my head anyway. With a slow, testing peer behind me to send a questioning look to the tanned man, I find his back facing me as he reaches for something. Another flash a blue. My eyes narrow. Just what was that item?

As Grimmjow's body turns around to face me once more, I felt the curiosity piquing at my mind. With a hesitant frown, I try and peer around his shoulder to get a better look at the present that he held. When it was hidden from view once more, a pout resided on the features that Grimmjow was currently staring at – humor there, but not appreciated.

"I…" I bit my lip as my brows furrow at the sudden warmth in my stomach. When I really thought about it, this was exactly the first present I have ever gotten from someone other than myself. But I would refuse to admit that – it made me feel ashamed, for some reason. "What is it?" I settled for the annoyed glare as Grimmjow's smirk widens considerably.

"Now why would I go and tell ya tha'?"

My eyes narrow further. They are now just slits. "Then who told you?" I decide to drift my gaze to the side of his face then. I can still trace the slight scar where Grimmjow once held a mask as fierce as my own, but, then again, mine was not welded to my skin. His had been – for disobeying, and his scar was one that resembled a raison, big and gaudy and completely and utterly uneven. His face beheld a stature as if he had been burnt. I shivered just at the thought of the pain he would've gone through – not only getting it on, but taking it _off. _

God am I glad he didn't have that anymore.

Then again, I'm getting off track. Who in the hell told him? Whoever it was, I'm going to make sure their asses are tossed so far up in the air they won't be able to fall back down into our atmosphere and will eventually choke to death so I can laugh at their dying faces.

A bit cruel.

I'll settle for a big fight.

But you get the point.

And yet, I couldn't stop myself from the ongoing curiosity as to what might Grimmjow get his hands on to get me. I thought about the limited amount of supplies that we had access to, and I couldn't help but picture the strain that Grimmjow would have went through to get _anything._ So, letting it slide for one day and one day only, I blush and hold out my hand petulantly. The bluenette seemed to get my discomfort and didn't push me any further, only taking the present from behind his back and resting it in one of my hands. Situating myself to get comfortable, I was once again wrapped in a comforting embrace, and I decided to peck my lover on the cheek in a sign of affection and thanks.

With a light smile and a strained stare towards the blue object, I can't help but notice the weight. It was a small present, but it had a lot of baggage to in, and that was kind of confusing. A furrow of my brow gave Grimmjow the incentive that I was confused. He snorted.

"Open it already." Impatience was the significant figure in that statement. I glance upwards towards him but then blink and look down, carefully moving my fingers to open the surprisingly intricately wrapped piece. Slowly but surely, my fingers numbly unwrap the birthday present, careful not to rip it, and I find behind them lay a set of papers. Confusion marred my face as I stare upon them blankly. Papers? What are these? Bewilderment was the next thing that my lover gauged. He chuckled. "Read the names." Grimmjow lifted one finger to point at the typed letters in the form of a name, and my eyes drifted….

"I-Issin…K-Kurosaki?" with my eyes blinking in a sudden fit of shock, I let my jaw drop back and my eyes expand in size due to the fact that I just realized what this had to be. But it couldn't…How did he get his hands on these? Their files…Closed files…Classified information….I just couldn't understand, so I snapped my head back to scrutinize him. He looked prepared to give me an explanation.

"Yeah." Grimmjow licked his lips as his voice came out a bit gruffer than intended. "Szayel helped me out as repayment of a favor."

More confusion.

Grimmjow…He – "You hate him, though." I said aloud as my voice drifts off. The bluenette shrugged.

"I do." He didn't elaborate.

As soon as he said the words, I almost cried. Quite literally, actually, I had to hold back the welling up of tears as I turn and bury my face into his chest without abandon. I felt a sense of love whelming my heart over, enfolding it in a comfortable, tranquil embrace as it almost leapt out of my chest. Grimmjow tightened his hold on me as I thanked him multiple times, only thinking how hard it probably was for him to go and ask that pink haired bastard for help. Though, he still did it, despite how much he hated the man, for the sake of me, and that…I dunno, it just made me feel…comforted. Protected, even.

"I love you." I didn't hesitate to say as I kissed him softly on the collarbone. I felt Grimmjow's lips press on my forehead, and at that moment I felt a welling of pride and love so great towards the bluenette that I almost couldn't contain myself.

"Love ya too, Ichi." I could almost feel the happy grin on his face. With a shake of my head and a blush adorning my cheekbones, I decide to glance around the papers once more. I wouldn't really get in to the information until I at least had some time to dig around, but I would at least read the first page.

"Issin Kurosaki…." I felt the familiarity of the name as I read it once more. A furrowed brow was my only reaction however, for I was unable to remember what he looked like. Under his name said the word deceased. I fought my growing wonder to find out how he had died and even though I had not known the man – my heart pulled in a series of directions. "Masaki Kurosaki…" I remember her, though, from when she was murdered, but that was it. I vaguely remember loving her very much, and how much her smile always brightened my day….But, I couldn't really place that feeling anywhere.

Even though I didn't show it to my lover I was disheartened. The fact that he had died along with my mother brought me to my first realization. I didn't have a family left. Well, not immediate anyway. But then, if my father had passed not long ago, who was…who had found that we were in this place? Someone knew about me from somewhere and had the time and patience to find me – but I really don't know why or even _how _someone would go about doing that.

Instead of thinking any more on that topic I did what I thought was right: push the thoughts to the back of my mind.

A sigh passed my mouth. I could feel Grimmjow's stone-like eyes boring into me, but I carefully avoided him as I plopped the papers on my lap and ran a hand throughout my knotted orange hair. It was just so much to take in – really, it was. When you never remembered your parents all too much, and you finally get to find out who they were, what they did, how they acted, what their appearance was like, well…It was just kind of overwhelming. Even if they were dead. I had a feeling that I would be unable to glance over this information all at once; I would have to read in stages. But that was alright. At least I had them.

"Occupation…" I read aloud. "Doctor, owned the 'Kurosaki Clinic' in Kakura Town." I flash fell before my eyes. At the name, I vaguely remembered a little bit of what the home looked like, both small and dull, but always lively with the family around. I cocked my head to the side as I draw out a partial map in my head. With a curt nod, I read a bit further.

"Date of birth…" My finger traced the information as Grimmjow listened in on my voice. I was sure he went over the papers at least once or twice, but I couldn't bring myself to be that upset. After all, he was the one who went through the trouble of getting these papers for me. But it did kind of irk me to know that he knew more about my family than I did. "September nineteenth, nineteen sixty-three." That meant he was…I'm not sure when he passed away, but either late forties or early fifties…So young. "Cause of –…"

I wouldn't read any further right now.

Hastily, I tugged the papers onto my lap and out of sight. My lover seemed to get my reasoning, and tightened his grip around me in a protective format. I couldn't help myself, and I leaned back into his embrace with a slight smile. At least I knew that Grimmjow would be by my side, if there were nothing left for me when I came home. We would fare it out, I knew that, somehow.

" Ichigo Kurosaki and Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, please report to the office." An over-speaker suddenly buzzed, causing the both of us to jump. As we glance at each other, a silent realization was made between us.

_It was time. _

My body stiffened as I forced the papers in the waistband of my shorts, making sure that they were secure and out of view as I stand. Grimmjow got up also. Whatever he was bringing was clearly either out of sight too – or he didn't have anything. That could also be the case.

I made sure what little things I had, which was Grimmjow, a little clothing and my toothbrush, were either tucked away, on my body, or right next to me. Another sigh passed through the room. This time it was from Grimmjow; and when I risked a glance over at him – he had a troubled expression. Which was reasonable. We were leaving. We were finally going to be on the run, and on the run we would be. Forever. At least, until we found that mysterious man who happened to track us – and maybe then.

But we would be _free. _

Without wasting much time we both began to walk. The world blurred past me as seconds passed, until we were out of our room and standing outside my room door with the most awkward posture ever. We would never come back to this place, and, as I stare back into my room, I find that even though this place was both physical and mental torture, well, it still had its good memories. Most with Grimmjow.

But it was time to make new ones. In the outside world – if we weren't caught.

The world passed by once again as Grimmjow shut the door behind him. We began walking in a pace quicker than normal. Neither of us glanced at the other, but I could feel our bodies edging slightly closer to each other. The people we passed down the white hallway didn't look at us as we didn't look at them.

And as we stop in front of a set of clear glass double doors, I could only think of one thing and one thing only.

It was time to go.


End file.
